Monday, December 31, 2007

GOODBYE 2007, HELLO 2008

Party at Hillbilly's!

See your asses over there.


© 2007 HillCountryGal

Note: The man has no shame or dignity whatsoever. I love it!

Sunday, December 30, 2007


As 2007 winds down, I thought you might enjoy what was my most read post of the entire year.

And it has zero to do with the writing, either.

No shit now, this post, which ran on May 4 (I think) generated the most hits EVER here at HillCountry.

So here it is.

Oh yeah, remember to click on the pixs to enlarge.

OK, ladies and gents,


Y'all are familiar with the Dilbert comic strip, right?


The comic strip "decency police" struck again.

Here's the story in a nutshell.

Can I say that?

Why, yes, I can.

OK. So here's what happened.

Alice got a bad case of chair buttocks.

So Dilbert's creator, Scott Adams, submitted this.
Big deal, right?

Why, yes, it was a big deal.

See, the Dilbert editors felt that Alice's pose was a "MOUNT ME" pose.

Swear. Read it straight from Scott's place here.

So they sent it back with instructions to make it more of a medical thingie.

Scott did.

Here is his medical version of chair butt.


The editors did NOT think it was funny.

Shit, I do.

Anyway, here is the version that finally appeared in the papers.
So there you go. Chair Buttocks NON "MOUNT ME" version.



© 2007 HillCountryGal

Note: Cray and Clapton

Friday, December 28, 2007


I'm getting spoiled.

Really, really spoiled.

Here's the deal.

I get a back massage every night now.

Uh huh, I do.

It's a good massage, too.

I lie on my tummy on my couch and holler


And yes,

Balless Bob here comes running.

He jumps on the couch, walks up my legs to my lower back and he starts massaging my back.

Well, I guess technically it's not a massage, it's one of those cat-pushing-their-paws-against-you thingie, but I'll take what I can get.

He's getting really, really good at it, too.

Me: "A little over to the right, please."

Me: "Up just a tad.....THERE! Perfect!"

So last night I was enjoying my massage when I heard a slurping sound.

I'm like, "WTF?!?"

Raised my head up and looked back over my shoulder and

was licking Balless Bob's ASS!

Ain't lying.

Me: "Prissy! Get away from his ass!"

She ignored me.

Kept on licking...

Balless Bob had a rather glazed look in his eyes....

Me: "Prissy!! Get the fuck away from his ass!"


Balless Bob stopped massaging me and RAISED HIS ASS UP HIGHER where Prissy could do her thang.

Me: "WTF are you doing? STOP LICKING HIS ASS!!"

Balless Bob started purring.


Me: "WTF's the matter with Prissy? Why is she licking his ass?"

Hubby: "Prolly tastes like cat food."


Granny needs a vacation!!!!

Somebody, PLEASE, invite me to come visit you.

I'll leave the pets at home, I don't eat much and I won't peek in your medicine cabinet.

I promise.



© 2007 HillCountryGal

Note: Word Association

Thursday, December 27, 2007



© 2007 HillCountryGal

Note: Now THIS is what I'm talking about!

Wednesday, December 26, 2007


So let's talk about

etiquette, shall we?

Before we get into that little ditty, lemme just say it's fucking great to be back online!

OK, now the cell phone thingie....

I was in Applebee's the other day just enjoying my lunch and minding my own business.

Lunch was great and after I was finished, I headed to the bathroom. Needed to do the pee thang and wash my hands since they were basically covered in French Fry grease.

So I beebop into the 2-stall bathroom and one was empty. I opened the door, walked in, closed the door, and got ready to pee.

Sat down on the THOROUGHLY WRAPPED toilet seat and, well, started peeing.


In the stall next to me was a very, very chatty woman.

At first I thought she was saying something to me, like, "There's no toilet paper here. Can you pass some under the divider?"

Which I would have, being as I'm a nice person and whatnot.

But no.

That is NOT what she was saying.

She was yapping on her cell phone LOUDLY. Sounded like she was talking to her boss, too.


Yes, she was. Every 3 or 4 words outta her mouth there was a flurry of farts & SHIT SPLASHES in the toilet.

Ain't lying.

Now you KNOW if I could hear that, whoever she was talking to on the phone sure as hell could hear it, too.

Prolly amplified.

Seriously now, WTF is wrong with some peeps?

Rule 1. Don't take a crap while you're talking on the fucking phone. It's rude as hell, not to mention I'll come back here and write about your nasty ass.

Rule 2. Take some Gas-X or something. Goodgawdalmighty!!

"Well, yes, you know, I was getting *SPLASH!* ready to file those briefs and *THUD SPLASH* then the phone rang, and *PTRRRRRRRRRRR* and it was Mrs. Jones on the line so *EXPLOSIVE SPLASH....*"


© 2007 HillCountryGal

Note: Dreams

Monday, December 24, 2007


Merry Christmas, my friends.

For Hillbilly

For Mike in Philly

For Pam

For voxd

For Capt.

For scooter in brooklyn

For Keith in France

For Margaret

For Doc

For Nicholas

For Nando

For LadyBug

For Good Man

For Spanish Goth

For Marine

For OldCranky


© 2007 HillCountryGal

Note: For me

Sunday, December 23, 2007


So I blatantly stole borrowed this from Crooks and Liars.

1. What is your favorite word?
2. What is your least favorite word?
3. What turns you on?
4. What turns you off?
5. What sound or noise do you love?
6. What sound or noise do you hate?
7. What is your favorite curse word?
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
9. What profession would you not like to do?
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?


1. Hope. Everything, Anything is possible if Hope exists in us.
2. Disappointed. As in "I'm disappointed in you." Fuck, just go ahead and cap my ass. I'd rather be shot than be told I disappointed someone.
3. Lush, long, dark, curly hair (on dudes). Confidence.
4. Smelly armpits. Arrogance.
5. Hummingbirds in flight. One got so close to me one time his tiny wings sounded like a Blackhawk helicopter. It was badass!
6. Sirens. Well, I suppose if I were waiting on an ambulance it would be music to my ears when I finally heard that sound, but otherwise, UGH.
7. Are you fucking kidding me?
8. Sailboat racer.
9. Number cruncher. I'd go postal on Day 2 of the job.
10. "Girl, I've been waiting on you! Now git your fucking ass in here and let's party! And no, you don't have to listen to angels *yawn* playing harps all fucking day long, either. And just for shits and giggles, My own, of course, fundies and politicians get sent to Hell. Automatically. No appeals. One more thing. Remember all those pets you loved that ripped your heart out when they died? Guess what? They're right here. They've been waiting for you, purring and barking their asses off and chasing squirrels in between licking their privates. Enjoy eternity, you hear?"

Oh yeah, I almost forgot. The photo "Pillars of Creation" above is one of my faves.

Now, I gotta know what your 10 are.

So tell me!


© 2007 HillCountryGal

Note: Soul

Saturday, December 22, 2007


Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chilliest land
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

~~Emily Dickinson~~

Happy Holidays, my friends.


© 2007 HillCountryGal

Note: :)

Thursday, December 20, 2007


.....when I said a couple of days ago we were gonna do something different on Friday?

Well, we are.

We're gonna have

and we're gonna do it right.

Ain't gonna be here.


Gonna be at Hillbilly's Place.

So click on the link and git your ass over there.

See ya there!


© 2007 HillCountryGal

Note: David Lee Roth

Tuesday, December 18, 2007


Ah, yes, a clown story.

Now listen here.

I know "Clowns" and their *ahem* adventures have been the topic (in the comments) here on a semi-regular basis lately, but this story I'm about to tell you is the honest-to-gawd truth.

Ain't lying!

So there was this clown

that was goddamn hilarious!

OK, back up.

Gonna start from the beginning here, m'kay?

A couple of years ago, my daughter Sondi decided she was gonna hire one of those "balloon clowns"

for her son Max's 5th birthday party.

This is Max.

Yes, he IS my grandson. My little white grandson.

So anyhoo, she got out the Yellow Pages and searched for "Clowns."


Now for obvious reasons (as the story progresses) I'm making up a fake name for said Clown, 'cause, well, when peeps Google his "real" Clown name, well, you'll see.

So she called "Crown The Clown" on the phone and hired his ass, right?

She then rented the park in Lakeway for the afternoon for Max's B-party.


I'm sorry, every time I think of this I just BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHAAA!

OK, I'm composed now.

So B-day arrives and we all haul ass to the park. Sondi had catered Q for the party and dozens of HEAPING platters of Q and sides were set out,
"Happy Birthday Max" banners were hung, and parents & their kiddos started arriving.

Now my daughter knows how to throw parties. Always mindful that the ADULTS might not want to drink those disgusting fruit drinks in those little cardboard boxes, Sondi makes sure there are CASES & CASES of ice cold ADULT beverages available.

Official begin the party time was 2 p.m.

2:15 p.m......

Sondi: "Where the fuck is that clown I hired?"

2:30 p.m......

Sondi on her cell phone: "Where the fuck are you at? You better get your ass here and do it quick, too!"

2:32 p.m.....

Crown The Clown arrives in his brightly colored van, honking that horn like crazy.

Sondi: "'Bout fucking time."

So I'm over, I don't know, somewhere in the vicinity, and I see Crown The Clown climb outta his van.

Sure enough, he's dressed like a clown is supposed to be.


He has one of these

purple bags hooked onto his belt.

Ain't lying!

Me: "OMG."

Sondi didn't notice. At first.


Sondi: "Hey, kids, gather around now. The clown FINALLY got his ass here. Let's go. Move!"

So this group of little kids, about 40 of 'em, gathered in a sorta line in front of Crown The Clown.

The parents were milling about.

Crown The Clown reached over and hit the "Play" button on his boom box and gangsta rap starts booming.


You gotta remember something here, folks. These little kids all knew each other from a private, VERY EXPENSIVE pre-school.

Sondi: "Are you shitting me?"


Crown The Clown: "Where's the birthday b.., is it a birthday boy or a birthday girl?"

Sondi: "I swear to gawd, I'm gonna kill that fucking clown."


Max: "I'm the birthday boy. I'm a boy!"

Crown The Clown: "Well, come on up here to the front, you little buckaroo."

Max: "Mama, what's a buckaroo?"

Sondi: "It's what that clown's gonna WISH he was in about another minute."


Crown The Clown: "I'm gonna make you a birthday present. I'm gonna make you some neat things outta balloons. Do you think you'll like that, little buckaroo?"

Max: "Yeah!"

10 INTERMINABLE minutes later....

Max: "What is that?"

Crown The Clown: "It's a little dog. Can't you tell?"

Max: "Not really."


Crown The Clown: "I know how to make more animals. Wanna see?"

Max: "Sure."

A lifetime later......

Sondi: "Mama, can you tell what that fucker is doing?"


Crown The Clown: "OK, little children, listen up now. While I'm making this mountain lion, we're gonna go over some safety rules, OK?"

40 Little Children: "YEAH! Safety rules."

Sondi: "JeesusH! Safety fucking rules???"


Crown The Clown: "Now, when you're playing around your house, and you find a used needle laying around, what do you do?"

40 Little Children:

80 Parents:

Sondi: "WTF?????"


Crown The Clown: "You NEVER EVER pick it up. You go get your big sister and have HER pick it up. Can you remember that?"

40 Little Children:

80 Parents:

Sondi: "You're gonna die, clown."


Crown The Clown: "Here's another very, very important safety rule. When you see your daddy's, or you mama's boyfriend's, or your mama's switchblade on the floor, what do you do?"

40 Little Children:

80 Parents:

Sondi: "Mama, give me your revolver. Now. I'm fixing to cap a clown."


Sondi: "OK, kids. Who wants some birthday cake?"

40 Little Children: "I DO! I DO!"

80 Parents: "WE DO! WE DO!"

Crown The Clown: "We have one more safety rule to discuss."

Sondi: "Do you want to live to see tomorrow?"

Crown The Clown: "Yes, Ma'am."

Sondi: "Then git. Make tracks and do it NOW!"


Me: "I want Crown The Clown at my next birthday party."

Sondi: "You would."

You know, I do have a birthday coming up in March.....

Crown The Clown!


Oh, that reminds me.

We're gonna do something different on Friday.

Be sure & check in early and find out what, OK?

It's gonna be fun.

I promise!


© 2007 HillCountryGal

Note: Send 'em in, baby


I woke up this morning all

and shit.

I walked over to my coffeemaker and immediately got all


There's no coffee anywhere in this house.

So I'm heading to Drippin' as soon as the market opens and when I get back


I'm gonna be all


Good, yes?


© 2007 HillCountryGal

Note: Willie & Ray

Monday, December 17, 2007


Yes, I have a case of the "Mondays" today.

A bad one, too.

So guess which one I am? And if you say

Snow White, you're gonna seriously annoy me.



Today, Granny is

What? Don't you ever?

Let's just say, I completely understand



© 2007 HillCountryGal

Note: Chrissie

Sunday, December 16, 2007


Those wily Japanese have done it again.

That's right, baby.

They've created something they claim has never been done before.

Wanna know what it is?

Oh, come on. You know you're just dying to know.

And if you're not?

Fuck it, I'm gonna tell you anyway.

Are you ready?

Japanese scientists have created a

genetically modified (DUH) mouse that is not afraid of a cat.

"Researchers at Tokyo University managed to turn off the receptors in a mouse's brain that react to the scent of its main predator.

They wanted to prove that fear is genetically programmed and not, as is commonly believed, the product of experience.

Instead of scurrying away or playing dead, the GM rodents were able to carry on as usual when coming face-to-face with a cat."

Yep, the Japanese scientists are BRAGGING that they've created a mouse that's not afraid of a cat.

You know, of course, that it's all bullshit, yes?

Hell, we all know a mouse that's NEVER been afraid of a cat.

As a matter of fact, the mouse in question takes great pleasure in tormenting the cat.

And he always, but always, bests that cat.

The Japanese can kiss my ass.

'Cause we've got


Oh yeah, one more thing.....

The Polka Dot Puss


© 2007 HillCountryGal

Note: Put me in, Coach!

Saturday, December 15, 2007



This is Part 3 of our 3-part series on Finding Pam.

As you know, Pam is my friend, and I want you to get to know her and to enjoy her fine writing.

And while you're reading her posts, remember we need to help her pick a new blog name for her upcoming blog.

So let's *ahem* get down to "Penis Envy", OK?

Ladies & Dudes, I present Pam!

5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Now.

Sigmund Freud, in all of his Phallocentric glory, theorized that all little girls secretly desired to have a penis. While I cannot specifically remember even knowing about the existence of penises (or would that be peni?) until my little brother was born when I was almost 6 years old, I can, as a grown woman, relate to the concept of penis envy. There are specific times where I must admit that having a penis would be handy. Now, get your mind out of the gutter. I am speaking of the ability to pee standing up, especially when miles away from facilities or in a particularly nasty public restroom.

I think most women can relate to the following scenario: Imagine you are in a bar listening to a really great band. You've had a few beers or, in my case, sloe gin fizzes. Your bladder starts to feel full, so you make your way to the "women's restroom" at the back of the club. One of the stalls has a backed up toilet that people have obviously continued to use. It is now overflowing with toilet paper and human waste. You try not to barf (as someone seems to have done that already too) and move to the only other stall in the restroom. Some kind woman has left a splattering of pee all over the seat. You have several choices: (a) you can hover over the seat and hope that your thighs don't give out and your naked skin doesn't come in contact with any numbers of germs living in that alien pee on the toilet seat; (b) you can wipe the toilet seat with a piece of toilet paper, knowing damn well that the germs are still there and there is no soap in this poor excuse for a restroom; or (c) you can stop drinking and hold it until you get home hours later (but what fun is that?). None of these choices is particularly pleasant, but a loud bladder must be answered. You hover and hope that your high school health teacher was correct when she said that you really can't get an STD from a toilet seat.

But wait - what if there was a fourth option? What if you could pee standing up?? Ladies, did you know that you can buy a product that basically serves as a detachable penis (any King Missle fans in the house?) that can be used to pee without your nether regions coming anywhere near the nasty toilet seat?

Meet the TravelMate :

Product description:

TravelMate™ non-invasive urinary devices enable females to pee through the fly of their clothes while standing, or by attaching our medical-grade thermoplastic elastomer tubing and collection bag, answer the call of nature while seated in a car, boat, or small aircraft.

Each 1-inch x 6-inch soft plastic TravelMate is environmentally responsible— meaning that it can be washed and reused hundreds of times. Furthermore, in most cases the TravelMate wipes off residual urine (no need for toilet paper) making the product ideal to bring along when well-maintained restrooms are scarce.

Staff writer Kimberly Wong, writing for Health magazine summed up her experience with the award-winning TravelMate: "A perfect companion for any trip outdoors— not to mention the times you come across suspicious-looking toilet seats."

Storage is simple— after a quick wash under the faucet or after using one of our mini sanitizing sprayers, slip the device into one of our denim or tapestry carrying cases. It easily fits in your purse or the front pocket of a standard pair of jeans and uses less storage space than a pair of sunglasses.

If the travelmate isn't doing it for you, you can always try the Whizzy,

which proudly encourages women to "take a stand"! The whizzy also comes in two lengths, "the longer original Whizzy, and the compact travel size Whizzy with easy-grip handles."

If you are not wanting to put something you just peed into back in your purse, then there is a disposable option - The P-Mate

Instructions for the P-Mate:

The P-Mate is basically like a cardboard shoe with the toe cut off. You place the entrance of the 'shoe' directly under your urethra, between your legs, pee into the shoe and then make sure that the hole at the toe end is funnelling the urine out somewhere other than on your feet.
The P-Mate also boasts that it is "covered with a 4-leaf clover design as it is good luck to have one with you when you are in need."

But what if you are on a hot date with a really hunky guy

and you just don't want to risk the possible embarassment of him finding the portable penis in your purse? Well, never fear!! Tutorials also exist to teach women how to pee standing up without any type of phallus imitator at all. I will spare you the step-by-step instructions as those who are truly interested will, no doubt, just click on the hotlink.

Penis envy?? Bah - who needs 'em! I knew Freud was full of crap all along! But I still have one question - where the hell were the TravelMate, Whizzy and P-Mate when I was that girl in a bar with the nasty bathroom 15 or so years ago?

:) :) :)


© 2007 HillCountryGal

Note: Woman

Friday, December 14, 2007



This is Part 2 of our 3-part series on Finding Pam.

As you know, Pam is my friend, and I want you to get to know her and to enjoy her fine writing.

And while you're reading her posts, remember we need to help her pick a new blog name for her upcoming blog.

So let's rock to "Booty Bitch", OK?

Ladies & Dudes, I present Pam!

5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Now.
Yes, this beautiful little angel is the one with the potty mouth

So, it seems that my youngest daughter's colorful language has some of you a bit curious, and at least a few of you rolling on the floor.

Just to clear things up, no I didn't teach her to say that particular phrase. We can thank the power of peer socialization for her expansive vocabulary. Other three-year-olds in her class have older siblings, and perhaps parents, who use such language around them (not that I ever would, mind you ;-)).

The descent into vulgarity began with Ainsley calling people "butt". Really, butt isn't such a bad word, so we mostly ignored it. Then "butt" became "buttcrack." I almost died (with laughter) the day she called Grandma a "buttcrack" on the phone. Good thing her enunciation wasn't that clear and Grandma didn't know what she said (until now, since I'm sure she'll read this sooner or later). Then "buttcrack" became her main "shock" word. After the peals of laughter the first few times she said it (despite my best attempts to maintain a straight face), it grew old very quickly.

You have to understand my younger daughter's personality. She is not a people pleasure. With my older daughter, when she said a "naughty word" we simply told her that wasn't a nice word and not to use it any more. And she didn't. If you tell my younger daughter not to do something, you have just guaranteed that she will do it - over and over and over again.

Then one day she came home and called her sister a "booty bitch". Here is how the exchange went:

Abby: Mooommmmmmmy.......Ainsley just called me a booty bitch!

Me: Wha....?????

Abby: A booty bitch, mom. A BOOTY BITCH!!

Me: I heard you honey, I'm just stunned. (stunned silence).

Me again: AINSLEY GRACE!!!! Where did you hear such a word??

Ainsley: From school. From Joey.... (lovesick look in her eyes).

Me: That is NOT a nice word. You do NOT call your sister, or anyone else, that name ever again!! Do you understand me, young lady??

Ainsley: YOU'RE a booty bitch, Mommy!!

And this is how it has gone every time. We have tired sending her to time-out when she says it (which usually earns a "buttcrack" or even an occasional "butthead"). We have tried ignoring it. We have talked with her teacher at school. We have talked to the other parents (apparently "booty BIOTCH" is pretty hot in some other households right now). But frankly, although it annoys the hell out of my husband, I'm not all that concerned about it. It's just a bad word. And not a really bad one at that. It only has the power we give it with our reactions to it. And we LOVE the preschool and would never leave over a few "buttcracks" or "booty bitches."

Perhaps it was my own childhood that has created this laissez-faire attitude with my three-year-old's potty mouth. I can distinctly remember the first time I dropped the F bomb in front of my parents. I was about 10, or maybe 12, years old. I had a splitting headache. Here is a vague recollection of what happened.

My Mother: Would you PLEASE pick up your shoes off the stairs?!?!?

Me: Leave me ALONE!! I have a f*cking headache!

My Mother: **stunned silence** (I think "oh shit!")

My Father: Looks up from his newspaper and says "Well, then take some f*cking aspirin!" (sorry for the * - just trying to limit the freaky google searches. The 'booty bitch' will draw enough of them).

So, there you have it. My older daughter prefers to express her negative feelings through whining, my younger one through cursing. I love her just the way she is. Potty mouth and all.

:) :) :)


© 2007 HillCountryGal

Note: Shake it, baby!

Thursday, December 13, 2007



So today we're doing something I've been looking forward to for a very long time.

Today we begin a 3-part series of Pam posts.

Yes, we are!

I want you to get to know my friend Pam and to enjoy her fine writing.

And while you're reading her posts, remember we need to help her pick a new blog name for her upcoming blog.

So let's get busy, OK?

Ladies & Dudes, I present Pam!

5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Now.

Dear Aunt Flo:

I think it's time that you find another place to go visit. I am done having babies.

Other people's Aunts come to visit every 28 days and stay for 3-5 days. You seem to come around every 21 days and then stay for 7-10 days. What is up with that? Are you trying to wear out your welcome?

Why must you bring horrible PMS and cramps with you when you come? Don't you get tired of lugging around that 5 extra pounds of water weight that you dump on me each month? And ZITS!! Zits AND wrinkles?!? I mean COME ON!! There ought be a law that says once a woman's first crow's foot appears, zits are no longer allowed on her face. I keep having flashbacks to 9th grade and all that Clearasil.

Why do you always show up at the most inconvenient times? Weddings. Reunions. Vacations. A planned day at the water park. Days when my "fat jeans" are dirty. You have a cruel sense of humor, Aunt Flo. You should find other amusements.

It appears you have an aversion to hormones and thus birth control pills will keep your visits short and predictable. But I have no other need for birth control pills, patches, rings, shots, etc. The co-pays on those things are around $40-60. I can think of a few other things I'd like to do with that money. Plus, a woman in her (late) 30s has a higher risk of blood clots and other nasty side effects when she takes hormones.

Your aversion to pregnant women and nursing babies is also well known. And I do appreciate the years I was nursing and/or pregnant that you mostly stayed away. But I am not going to have another baby just to get rid of you.

Take the hint lady and hit the road. Go visit some female who is praying for your arrival right about now. I am ready for menopause.


:) :) :)


© 2007 HillCountryGal

Note: These Are Days

Wednesday, December 12, 2007


So some asshole with a heart the size of a ham (prolly) decided to rob a Dunkin' Donuts up in Elmwood Park, NJ.

15 minutes to Judge Wapner.....

Now he didn't have a weapon but he did jump over the counter and started taking $.

Mr. Dunkin' Donuts Worker wasn't having none of it, though.

According to the police, Mr. Dunkin' Donuts Worker grabbed the man's wrists while hitting him with the mug, which is used to hold tips.

10 minutes to Judge Wapner....

So you're saying, "Big fucking whoopie deal," yes?


6 minutes to Judge Wapner...

Mr. Dunkin' Donuts Worker admits he was less worried about the stolen cash than how he might look on the video-sharing site YouTube.

"What was going through my mind at that point was that the security tape is either going to show me run away and hide in the office or whack this guy in the head, so I just grabbed the cup and clocked the guy pretty hard."

3 minutes to Judge Wapner....

That's right, baby.

Mr. Dunkin' Donuts Worker IMMEDIATELY thought of the surveillance tape that was running in the store.

And how he was gonna look GOOD when it got posted on YouTube.

1 minute to Judge Wapner...

Oh yeah, one more thing.

Mr. Dunkin' Donuts Workers' name?

Time for Judge Wapner!


© 2007 HillCountryGal

Note: "Sheep Shagging" by my fave Scotsman, Billy Connelly

Tuesday, December 11, 2007


So I'm guessing that some of you already have some of these under your Christmas tree, yes?

And if I'm guessing correctly, they're presents for other peeps, yes?

I was gonna do a post about the most bizarre Christmas present I've ever gotten, but hell, who hasn't gotten a bizarre present?

So, instead, this post is gonna be about the "BEST" Christmas present I've ever given.

That's right, given.

So a few years ago my brother called me.

Bro: "What you doing?"

Me: "What do you want?"

Bro: "Ah, I was just thinking of a FINE Christmas gift you could give Mother & Daddy."


Bro: "I know you give 'em sorta nice stuff every once in a while, but you never give 'em what they really want."


Bro: "And I know what they really want. And I think that this year, you should give it to them."


Bro: "Wanna know what it is?"

Me: "You're gonna tell me whether I want to know or not."

Bro: "OK, this is what you need to give 'em."


Bro: "PLEASE, I'm begging you, PLEASE wear a..."

"....just ONCE before they die. They're old, you know, and they could go at any moment."

Me: "Yeah, old people die."

Bro: "That's my point! Make 'em happy for once and wear a bra to Christmas dinner."

Me: "I'll THINK about it. NO PROMISES."

Bro: "Thank you, thank you, thank you! They're gonna die happy now."

Me: "Git off my phone, asshole."

Bro: "Love you, too! Bye!"

So I caved and went and bought a bra. Hadn't worn one in 15 years or so.

MoFo's are designed by men. IF they were designed by women, they might actually be comfortable, instead of a tortured underwired cup to push UP and out.

Anyhoo, Christmas morning making that long-ass drive to the armpit of Texas, Wichita Falls.....

Me: "WhoooHooo! Dairy Queen's open! Be right back."

Kids: "Mama?"

Me: "Be right back! Do NOT talk to any pervs, you hear me?"

5 minutes later.....

Kids: "Mama! Your titties are UP!"

Me: "Hush. I have a headache."

Sondi: "But, Mama, they're UP!"

Me: "I swear to gawd I am gonna beat some ass in a minute!"

Joe: "No you ain't. Mama, what made 'em go UP?"

Me: "JesusH!!! Would you 2 STFU? I have on a bra under my shirt."

Kids: "Nuh uh!"


Kids: "Why?"

Me: "It's Mama's & Daddy's Christmas present."

Joe: "You giving Mima & Pipa a bra for Christmas?"

Sondi: "Are you, Mama?"

Me: "No, you little jerks! I'm WEARING one for them for Christmas."

Kids: "Oh."


Sondi: "You gonna let 'em see you without your shirt on?"

Me: "OMFG!!! STFU!!"


At my parents house.....

Mama opened the door & gave everybody the requisite hug AND the once-over.

Mama: "You kids go say Hi to Pipa. I need to talk to your mama."

Me: "Ohgawd...."

Mama: "YOU have on a bra."

Me: "Yep."

Mama: "THANK YOU!!!"


Mama: "Hey, Glenn, your daughter's wearing a bra!"

From the kitchen....

Daddy: "Praise Jesus."


You know the drill.

Your turn!


© 2007 HillCountryGal

Note: If you're old enough to remember this tune, well, you're OLD, like me....

Monday, December 10, 2007


So how many of you like aquariums?

I dig 'em.

Fave, of course, is one of these bad boys.

Yep, nothing quite as beautiful as a salt water aquarium, yes?

Of course, a freshwater aquarium ain't bad, right?

All those community fish living la vida loca...

I love it!


THIS is my aquarium.


Look, I HATE cleaning an aquarium. Hate it, hate it, hate it!

I have a VERY good reason why I hate it, too.

So my son & his wife, The Beautiful Elena, gave me a magnificent aquarium and filled it with gorgeous freshwater fishies.

And it stayed gorgeous for quite a while, actually.


it got green.

So The Beautiful Elena came over to my house and said to me, "Now watch how I do this. I'm gonna prime this tube and drain the nasty water out and you can fill it back up with clean water, OK?"

I'm like, "No problemo."

So she grabbed that hose tube thingie, stuck one end in the aquarium and the other in her mouth, sucked in, and then immediately yanked that hose tube thingie outta her mouth and pointed it out the window, where the green water shot out.

Voila! The nasty water was gone.

I was a good girl and refilled the tank with fresh clear water and put the fishies back in there (they had been put in a bucket of water for safekeeping) and once again, I had a beautiful aquarium.

Which lasted until it turned green again.

But this time, I KNEW how to get that nasty ass green water out of there, so I did what The Beautiful Elena had shown me.

I put that hose tube thingie with one end in the aquarium and the other in my mouth.

I sucked.

'Cept I didn't manage to yank the hose tube thingie outta MY mouth as fast as I should.....


I got a fucking MOUTHFUL of that green disgusting water in my mouth.


I RAN to the bathroom, frantically brushed my teeth like 8 times, grabbed the bottle of Scope, swished like a MoFo, then said, "Fuck this swishing shit. GULP!"

Hell yes I swallowed some Scope. Wouldn't you?

While I was Scoping, I was eyeballing the bottle of Hydrogen Peroxide, too.

So later I was telling my boy about the incident and he, being the kind, warm, loving son that he is, said,

"I heard you can get flesh-eating bacteria from a dirty aquarium."

Hydrogen Peroxide!

It doesn't taste as bad when you swallow it as you might think.


© 2007 HillCountryGal

Note: Somewhere....

Saturday, December 8, 2007


Oh, yes I did!

And I got 2 new things.

Can you guess what they are?

Today was a good day!


© 2007 HillCountryGal

Note: :)

Friday, December 7, 2007


You know, some of you are prolly enduring real winter.

Here in the Hill Country, well, we're not.

So a couple of days ago I walked outside with my camera and took some pixs of the flowers in my flower beds.

Yep, a couple of days ago.

Welcome to December.

Close-up of ^^^^^

Close-up of ^^^^^ This is my fave.

Someday, I'm gonna have one flower bed filled entirely with blue flowers.



© 2007 HillCountryGal

Note: :)